Page 19 of Stalked at Rescue Ridge

He hopped into his truck, figuring he could return the rental by morning and headed toward the ranch. Rather than let his mind churn over what might have happened to her, he focused all his energy on tracking her.

Would she still be in the area?

The temperature had dropped fifteen degrees once the sun descended. It would take forty minutes to get to the farm road leading to the ranch, where she might be.

His brain snapped to wishing this was all one big misunderstanding. Shock was a liar. It tried to trick the brain into thinking a situation wasn’t real. That there was some other logical explanation. Compartmentalizing his emotions had been his survival mechanism growing up and during his military service. The skill helped tuck emotions into a box reserved for opening later. The stash in his head said it would be more like an explosion, but he’d deal with the consequences when they came.

Right now, he needed all of his powers of concentration to find Bree.

The forty-minute drive to her truck took twenty-five at his rate of speed. The sheriff was gone, so he slowed down as he passed the truck and parked fifteen feet ahead. What had she named it?Weezie.

The damn thing looked like it broke down more than it ran. The busted-out window sent a jolt of anger through him. Weezie was a piece of junk. Why hadn’t Zeke given her a vehicle to use while he’d been overseas?

The answer came almost immediately. Bree was proud. She wouldn’t have accepted it, which didn’t make sense, considering they’d planned to marry. Would she stick to her guns until the wedding day? Only then allow her husband to do things for her? Wouldn’t she want to drive a safer vehicle while pregnant?

Weezie had earned her name. She chugged and coughed worse than a forty-year, two-pack-a-day smoker. He remembered the sound vividly because it had signaled her showing up to the borrowed fishing cabin during their fling. It had also alerted him to the fact she was leaving.

A thought struck. Zeke might have loaned his vehicle to Bree. Once she’d received news of his death, she might not have felt right taking his property.

Damn.

Bree couldn’t seea thing through the darkness enveloping her, shrouding her, making her feel like she couldn’t breathe. Moving made her head hurt as she tried to blink her eyes open. A few more unsuccessful attempts to push out of the mental fog were worthless.

And then she heard the scuff of a boot loud and clear. The panicked feeling inside her grew like tree branches on steroids.

Washeback? Had he come to kill her as promised? Or toy with her a little while longer in his twisted game?

When she’d first noticed the sedan stopping behind her, she should have taken note of the license plate and called the sheriff. What the hell had she been thinking?

You were upset. You weren’t thinking straight. Plus, the high beams were blinding and folks stopped to help each other out in this town.

Nothing sinister had ever happened in Saddle Junction to her knowledge. Did her town have its problems like every other small town? Of course. Was it perfect? No. But murderers and serial killers didn’t even make the list.

So, yeah, she’d let her guard down.

And now? She feared she might be dealing with the serial killer she’d read about who’d been traveling around the state racking up victims. A man dubbed Razorblade Reaper had carved so-called art pieces into his victims before…

Bree shuddered at the thought of why they’d called him the Reaper. She forced her mind away from that grisly topic. Her first thought needed to be figuring out a way to save the baby. The thought that followed was what this might do to Kade. He’d lost a best friend. And now he was about to lose the baby he’d just found out belonged to him. Had he freaked out? Absolutely. But he was a good person. He was honorable. And once he made peace with fatherhood, he would have stepped up. There was no doubt in her mind, only regret that she hadn’t realized it sooner.

She’d been torn, then, about tying him down. About forcing him to be connected to her for the foreseeable future.

Now?

All she could think of was how awful the news would come down if this was Razorblade and he carried out his intention. The urge to bolt overwhelmed her, but lifting her arms felt as possible as uprooting a hundred-year-old oak with her bare hands.

Nothing happened when she tried to move her legs, either. Frustration grew inside her until she felt like she might burst if she couldn’t get to her feet and run the hell out of there.

Her life couldn’t end like this.

Determination took root inside her. She had to calm down or risk going into labor. Since she had no idea where she was, she couldn’t tell if there was any form of help nearby. A house. A hospital.

A face—well, not so much a face but more a shadowed figure—popped into her thoughts. It was fuzzy and blurry, and she couldn’t make out any distinct features. Had he been wearing a mask?

Could she scream? She desperately needed to let someone know she was here. Or would that give her away and tell him she was awake and alert? Perhaps it would cause him to give her more of the substance on the rag that rendered her unconscious. She couldn’t risk that happening.

She commanded her arms to move. Why didn’t her body obey? The foggy haze tugged at the edges of her mind. It was trying to suck her under. She’d be damned if she could fight against it let alone stop it altogether.

Another face broke through the cloud in her brain.Kade.

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